


pick your poison

by lovelyflowersinherhair



Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 22:14:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20265346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyflowersinherhair/pseuds/lovelyflowersinherhair
Summary: “Your wish is my command, milady. Sparkly blue nails are at your service.”





	pick your poison

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesertVixen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertVixen/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Polished](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122395) by [DesertVixen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertVixen/pseuds/DesertVixen). 

Sam held up the bottle of nail polish, not completely unfamiliar with what he was doing. He had three younger sisters after all, and even Kristy had caved to wanting her toenails painted once in awhile, to say the least of Emily and Karen. It was just a different experience when it came to painting Stacey’s nails, that was all. She was his wife. He loved her. She was his  _ very _ pregnant wife. And because she was very pregnant, Sam was very hesitant indeed to screw her nails up. 

He loved Stacey, but he was scared of her hormones. 

They were entirely different than her blood sugar related mood swings. 

Not that he begrudged Stacey them. She was pregnant, after all. If there was ever a time for being less than prenaturally poised, that was the time. 

“You’re sure you won’t get mad if they’re not perfect?” He grinned at her, and he waggled his brows. 

“Sam!” Stacey exclaimed. “Will you paint my toes or not?” He heard her sigh. “You have two options here,” she said. “Either you paint my toenails, or we go on a mani-pedi date at the spa Samantha and Dad recommended to me. We could get couples massages.”

Sam gulped at the thought of agreeing to option B. Not because he was against the idea of doing something like that with Stacey, she was his wife, after all, and he loved her and the little sprog on the way very much, but he was definitely against the thought of agreeing to do something along those lines with Stacey and having the grand misfortune to have a run in encounter with either Ed or Samantha. He thought that he got along well enough with both Maureen and Ed, but he still didn’t want to risk encountering either in a potential state of disrepair. 

“I’ll paint your nails,” he agreed. “I don’t want you to have to exert your energy at this stage of the game. Not when I’m perfectly capable of doing this for you, at home.” He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the lips. “What’s this called again?” 

“The polish?” Stacey asked. He nodded. “It’s called The Root of All Evil,” she said. “From the Pick Your Poison collection.” Her eyes glinted with mirth. “I would say that it’s fitting, wouldn’t you?” 

“I don’t want to run into your father while I’m getting a massage,” he said, as he felt himself flush. “And what if you were to go into labor? Your due date isn't very far away.” 

He pressed his lips to her abdomen. The baby -- their daughter -- kicked in response. “Hi, there, little one,” he whispered. “You’ll be coming soon, yeah? You should stay in Mommy as long as you feel comfortable in her.” He kissed her once more, before pulling away, and setting himself back to rights. 

The nail polish was back in his hand, and he placed it on the table next to them, taking Stacey’s feet onto his lap, and massaging them gently, well aware that her advanced stage of pregnancy had caused them to be entirely more swollen than usual. He knew that wasn’t at all comfortable for her, though she was used to discomfort from her years of being a Type One diabetic, and didn’t much complain about the additional aches and pains that being pregnant had caused her. Still, the moans that she was making sounded pleased, and he continued on with the impromptu foot massage.

“You okay, Stace?” 

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said. “She’s kicking around in there. It just feels good. What you’re doing.” 

“I love you, you know that, right? I have since we first met.” 

Stacey giggled. “I know, Sam,” she said softly. “I love you, too. I’m glad that we’re building our family together.” 

So was he. The pregnancy was riskier than most despite the fact that Stacey was only in her mid-twenties, and that was due in a large part to her diabetes. Though the disease was and had been under control since they had been in high school together, there were still risks involved. Of course, there would have been risks in any pregnancy, and Sam knew that. There had just been the potential for there to be  _ greater _ risks in theirs. Both he and Stacey understood the statistics, however, and they had decided that they were willing to try. They wanted a biological child, but if it hadn’t worked out, they were willing to consider adoption. 

But -- work out, it had. Seraphine was safely inside of her mother, and both mother and baby were tolerating the pregnancy as well as could be expected. He was so grateful.

There was a time to ruminate on his gratefulness, however, and a time to be painting his wife’s nails, and the time had come for him to be doing the latter, and not the former. So, he flashed Stacey another grin, and picked up the polish. 

“Ten perfect nails, coming right up,” he said. “From Sam Thomas’s at home pedicure palace.” 

She snorted. “You’re a dork, Sam. You’re my dork.” She puckered her lips. “Come here and gimme a kiss.” 

Sam was happy to oblige. He kissed her softly on the lips, his hands running through her hair. He loved her so much. He couldn’t wait to meet their daughter. 

“You think she’ll be here soon?” 

She gazed up at him, her smile tired. “Probably,” she said. “Not tonight, or anything. But, yeah, soon.” 

“Well I want to make sure that her mama has pretty toes for her to see when she comes out, don’t I?” He ghosted his hand down her side as he posed the question. “Why don’t I get these piggies painted and then we can order something to eat and watch some cheesy movie on the television?”

“That sounds perfect.” 

He propped her up with another pillow. “You comfortable?” She flashed him a grin, and a thumbs up. 

“Your wish is my command, milady. Sparkly blue nails are at your service.”


End file.
